


esse quam videri

by epochjeong (pinkwinwin)



Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, End Game Byungchan/Hanse, End Game Seungsik/Seungwoo, Established Myungjun/Moonbin, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, Weapons, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwinwin/pseuds/epochjeong
Summary: Hanse turns to him, serious then. “Listen to me, there is only one thing to fear.”And Sejun is quiet, like holding his breath before diving under the river’s current. He knows what words are waiting for him, knows the look in his brother’s eyes.“You will see them shift before your eyes, and you willrun.”
Relationships: Heo Chan/Im Sejun
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	esse quam videri

**Author's Note:**

  * For [actuallyshua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyshua/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Jarki!!
> 
> Here it is, your long-awaited birthday fic. She's a chaptered one, because I think this is the kind of story that benefits from this kind of pacing. I hope you enjoy this journey as it unfolds.
> 
> As the tags suggest, this is a werewolf/shapeshifting story. Also, Sejun and Hanse are hunters. There will be mentions of violence throughout this story, and eventual sexual content, hence the M rating. Please be aware of tags as I will add them as the story progresses.
> 
> Here is the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/50dwJ5QYBMSsYGnarVhZfH?si=0nJFvGGpROSWZ4Pyx-IJUQ) for this fic, as well as the [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/artemism94/esse-quam-videri/) if you're the type of reader that's interested in visual aesthetics. Please enjoy!

The woods have a mind of their own. Full of life, but also unforgiving. 

  
  
Rivers run with a strong undertow, trees bend with the wind, winter creeps into the soil with an icy grip. Sejun knows these woods, has grown up between their trees and lay resting among it’s foliage. He finds comfort in the noises at night, feels no fear when darkness coats the ground.  He has roamed these spaces with his brother, wrestled in the meadows and made bows from the bark of spruce trees and carved until they could fit their tiny hands. 

He was  _ found _ in these woods, just on the outer edge where brave residents would travel to when picking elderberries or gathering daisies for flower chains. Wrapped in nothing but a worn-down cloth, taken in by the man that would teach him how to hold a blade and call him son. He has everything to be thankful for when it comes to this forest, this vast landscape where secrets seem to be whispered between the trees. 

He spent many days gathering herbs for the witches in town, to be ground up into medicine or potions for townsfolk. He was familiar with the whisper of the trees as he stood guard during a hunt, bow drawn and ready to strike. There was nothing unfamiliar about these woods, nothing that brought darkness into his heart or fear into his bones. 

But now—

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The Stormy Gate is a familiar tavern, a refuge for weary travelers,  who come in with their knapsacks and weapons strapped to their sides. Some walk through the doors with only the clothes on their backs, hoping for a kind face and a warm drink of mead. It is where Sejun was brought for his first drink, chasing the high of a hunt with his brother and father by his side. It’s comforting walls and ambient conversation welcome Sejun, who sits across the table from Hanse as he explains the map.

  
“Couple kilometers above the east end of Iris River,” Hanse mumbles, half a bread crust in his hand and peering into a glass of mead skeptically. “There’s a field there, more Fireweed and Twayblade than you know what to do with.” His dark hair hangs in his eyes, his stubborn refusal to get it cut making him look more menacing than anyone else in this tavern. Sejun merely twinges his lips in a grin at his words.

"A challenge this time," he replies, drumming his fingers on the wooden table.  He picks up the piece of charcoal, marks the spot that Hanse has described.  "Think I can manage it?"

Hanse snorts, putting his glass down and looking at Sejun plainly. "Of course you will, I taught you everything in that big head of yours."

Sejun laughs at this, nodding in agreement. Being Hanse's brother meant responsibility sat on his shoulders unlike anyone else, the family lineage of the best hunters in the area being passed down to him.  He passes Hanse the charcoal, watches as he draws out a path that will get Sejun there the fastest. This is their routine, passing down any information that would be relevant. Hanse looks at the map with a satisfied nod, folding it carefully and pushing it towards Sejun.

“You won’t be joining me this time?” Sejun asks, taking the cloak from the back of the chair and fastening it to his chest. Hanse shakes his head, adjusts the satchel attached to his belt.

“I have a job of my own to do.”

  
  
Sejun grins wickedly at this, leaning across the table and giving Hanse a conspiring look. “I know you think doing odd jobs for Byungchan is a way to his heart, but you do have to confess to him eventually.” 

The way Hanse’s head snaps up to shoot him a glare makes laughter bubble up in Sejun’s throat. “Get your head out of your ass, nothing is going on.”

  
  
“I’m so sure,” Sejun says airly, taking Hanse’s own glass and waving it around dramatically. Mead sloshes up the side, tickling down and soaking Sejun’s hand with stickiness. “We all stare lovingly at a pretty witch when we think he isn’t looking.”

  
  
The hand that comes up to smack Sejun in the chest only fuels his laughter, ringing out long after the two of them leave the tavern. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Byungchan’s shop is one that’s achingly familiar, perhaps because there is almost as much greenery between its walls than there are in the forest that surrounds them. Hanging ivies reach out when you walk through the door, their lush green leaves curling down to meet customers. Potted Hart’s Tongue and Aloe plants line the windowsills, and ferns thrive in the corner behind the counter where Byungchan is always found. The foliage seems to come to life whenever someone new walks in, thanks to Byungchan’s enchantments.

Sejun and Hanse find him petting the black cat sleeping on the counter, a floating spellbook at eye level his only other company.

“Oh!” Byungchan exclaims, face lighting up when he sees the two of them walk in. In an instant the book snaps shut, floating to a nearby shelf as the cat beneath his hand stirs and jumps onto the floor. “Good afternoon, Sejun, Hanse.”

  
  
The latter is said quieter, more timid. Sejun knows better than to think Byungchan is afraid of his brother, not with the way he leans over the counter so he can talk to Hanse. “What can I do for you two?”

  
  
“Just wanted to make sure I had everything right,” Hanse explains, unrolling the parchment signed excellently in Byungchan’s handwriting. “That these were the ingredients you need.”

  
  
Sejun fights the urge to roll his eyes at the sight, the way Hanse lays the parchment carefully on the counter. Byungchan smiles at him warmly, leaning forward to point at the list as he mutters quietly. To anyone else, Hanse is no different than usual— but Sejun can see the way his lips quip up a little in the corners at the witch’s words, how his shoulders seem a fraction more relaxed, how he plays with the jewelry in his nose and lip. Sejun leans down to scratch the cat behind the ear as she rubs up against his legs, mewing slightly at the touch. 

Eventually, Byungchan takes notice of Sejun again. He flashes him an apologetic smile and fishes out a small wrapped bag, dark red velvet shining in the sun that peeks through the window. “Seungsik is in the next village over dropping off an order, but he wanted me to pay you in advance.”

“Thanks,” Sejun replies, taking the bag and tucking it into his satchel. "I'm just going out scouting today, getting a feel for the route I'll take. It won't take long."

Byungchan smiles broadly at this, relief washing over his face. “Perfect, I’ll see you again soon.”   
  


After a few more parting words, the two of them leave Byungchan’s storefront. The sun is almost to the center of the sky, the morning fading away to noon. Sejun waits until they’re halfway to the square before leaning into Hanse’s side, a teasing edge to his voice.

_ “Just wanted to make sure I had everything right,” _ Sejun mocks, his voice comically low. He puffs out his chest, taking on a sour expression. Hanse snarls at this like an animal, punching Sejun’s shoulder and knocking him off balance. He walks ahead of Sejun as he doubles over in laughter, having to jog to keep up when he finally regains his breath.

“Shut up,” Hanse says, not even bothering to look at Sejun. “You’ll understand someday.”

  
  
Sejun laughs, quieter this time. He rubs his arm where Hanse hit him, rolling his shoulders back. The sun warms the back of his neck, catches against the silver jewelry in Hanse’s nose. 

“Doubt it.”

  
  


Sejun walks towards the stable, the small cluster of farmhouses welcoming him as his boots crunch on the gravel pathway. The sun is shining high and Sejun can feel the heat even through his cloak. His faraway mind is brought back to reality when a familiar toddler comes teetering onto the walkway, his small hands reaching up and waving at him. 

Sejun’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, crouching down and resting a hand on his knee. “Hello, Siwoo,” he says, reaching out to steady the small child. He beams at Sejun, bright eyes sparkling in the late morning sun. He babbles aimlessly and Sejun finds himself nodding enthusiastically, when a figure comes bounding from a nearby potato field.

“There you are!” a musical voice says, long sandy hair blowing in the breeze. He flashes Sejun a sheepish smile, patting the child on the head and smoothing out his hair. When the young boy turns his attention to the man, he scoops him up and places a noisy kiss to his round cheek. “You can’t keep wandering away while I’m working, baby.”

  
  
Sejun chuckles at this, straightening out his belt as he stands up. “He just wanted to greet me before my trip,  Myungjun.”

Myungjun looks at him with a soft smile, letting Siwoo twist in his grip and reach out towards Sejun again. “New job?” he asks, rubbing his son’s back affectionately.

Sejun nods. “Pretty far, I’ll have to make it past the river for supplies.” Myungjun hims at this, uses a hand to gesture to one of the stable boys to fetch his horse. Siwoo has grown bored of the adult talk, resting his head on his father’s shoulder and gazing up at Sejun sleepily. 

“Moonbin still isn’t back yet,” Myungjun says, a sigh escaping his lips as he looks concerned. He brushes the hair out of Siwoo’s eyes, arching a brow when he sees a familiar figure walk Sejun’s horse out of the stable. “At least let Minhyuk escort you for a bit, okay?”

Sejun chuckles, patting Myungjun on the back fondly. “You worry too much, I really don’t need help.” The look he gets in exchange is more of a worried parent than anything. “But if it helps you feel better, he can take me to the creek.”

Myungjun’s worry seems to melt away at Sejun’s words. “Thank you.”

Sejun gives Myungjun one last look before walking to the stable, greeting Minhyuk as he adjusts the saddle.

“She’s ready to go,” Minhyuk says, giving him a soft smile as he pets the horse’s mane. Eun whinnies in response, leaning into his touch fondly. Sejun pushes the hair away from her eyes, dark irises looking back at him against her pale white coat. 

“Sorry you have to come along, too,” Sejun says, apologetic. “You know how he gets sometimes.”

  
  
Minhyuk laughs at this, shaking his head and letting his hair fall away from his face. He clicks his tongue and his own horse appears, dark brown coat shiny in the sun. “His nagging is way worse when I’m late coming back home.”

Sejun hoists himself up onto the saddle, rolling his shoulders back as Minhyuk does the same. They both take a moment to wave to Myungjun before heading off, the rhythmic sound of hooves against the gravel the only sound between them.

The trip is an easy one, Sejun taking this route countless times before. It’s the same cobblestone path that fades into a dirt walkway, winding carefully through the grassy plains outside of the village. He talks with Minhyuk periodically as they ride, keeping their voices low enough as to not disturb the wildlife around them. A small rabbit darts across their path at one point, scurrying into a tall patch of grass on the other side of the pathway. 

“You probably won’t be back until tomorrow,” Minhyuk muses, his dark hair blowing in the breeze. He rides to the left of Sejun, pulling the reins to guide his horse more towards the center of the path. “I’ll let Seungsik know.”

  
  
“Thanks,” Sejun says, mind wandering to the treeline in front of them. Sejun always finds that his thoughts get away from them in the woods, his connection with mature making time seem to fly by. He barely registers that anyone is traveling with him until Minhyuk makes conversation, instead taking in the sights around them. The trees are full with lush leaves, the spring season bringing new life to the world around them. 

By mid-afternoon they make it to the first creek, one that winds between meadows and travels through a rocky canyon. It is close enough to the village that inn workers will come out here to wash their patrons' clothing, and older children will play in during the summer months. For now it is empty, filled with nothing but the small fish that call it home.

“This is where I leave you,” Myungjun says, looking at Sejun carefully. “This is a new route, are you sure you’ll be alright?”

  
  
“I’m fine,” Sejun assures him, pulling the reins to stop Eun just off the trail. She huffs in response, leaning down to nibble on a patch of grass. “I’m just scouting part of the route, anyway.”

Minhyuk nods, peering down the far end of the creek for a moment. When he looks back at Sejun, his eyes are clouded with concern. “Just be careful.”

  
  
And Sejun knows why, knows the whispers that have traveled throughout the villages this side of the bay. These woods have changed, shifted with the energy of something new here. Something foreign, that lurks in the shadows and watches from afar. He is thankful for his friend’s concern, but Sejun is perhaps one of the few people he shouldn’t be worried about.

“Go, now,” Sejun urges, but his face is kind. “Before it gets dark.”

  
  
He watches Minhyuk travel until he can no longer make him out, his horse turning the corner and becoming obscured by a cliff face. For perhaps the first time that day Sejun relaxes, takes a breath. The sky is overwhelmingly bright blue above his head and the creek is quiet, nothing but the occasional rustle of the trees greets Sejun.

  
  
He is welcome, he is home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Ten years ago _

“Watch your back, never put your weapon down if there’s a threat nearby.”

Hanse’s eyes narrow, focus etched into his teenaged face. His hair is long, pulled back just enough for him to see the horizon. The bow in his hands is painted red, stained from berries muddled up and smeared against wood grain until it sets. A gift for Hanse the day he turned thirteen, rested against the edge of his bed and waiting for his expert hand. 

Their father sits on a nearby rock, smooth from wear and inches from the stream. For a moment there is nothing but the sound of them breathing, of the soft babble of water. And then—

the splintering of wood, and a cheer. Hanse hits the center of the target painted on a faraway birch, circled raspberry red against the pale wood. Their father smiles, claps his hands before resting them on his knees.

“You’re getting better,” he says, voice smooth and deep. Sejun finds comfort in his voice most of all, telling them stories as they drifted off to sleep, explaining the best way to hold a dagger or what to look for in poisonous plants. He tells Hanse and Sejun to retrieve the arrow and they bound towards the tree, racing to see who will get there the fastest. Sejun is out of breath by the time he catches up to his brother, snickering and reaching up to pull the arrow out of the bark.

“Aren’t you worried about getting too far?” Sejun asks, hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. The crisp morning air fills his lungs, sharp and unfiltered.

“Nah,” Hanse replies, using one last final tug before the arrow dislodges, nearly sending him into the grass below. “Nothin’ gonna hurt us out here. We’re safe.”

In the distance, their father calls their names. Warm, bright, safe.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sejun hears his father’s voice often, especially now. Eun’s hooves echo against the dirt, pale mane blowing in the breeze. They’ve been traveling along the creekside for hours now, the sun nearly fading into the mountains in the distance. The sky is slowly turning shades of orange and purple, and nearby an owl calls into the air.

There is something about this time of day that feels magical to Sejun, so he pulls Eun off to the side and climbs down. His boots hit the ground with a quiet  _ thud,  _ and his fingertips drag along the tops of the grass as he walks. He adjusts the reins to one hand and allows the two of them to walk side-by-side, gentle enough not to disturb any nearby wildlife. Soon the fireflies will come to life, littering the meadows and creekside with tiny stars.

“We’ll set up camp soon,” Sejun explains to Eun, who whinnies in response. It is comforting to speak to her even if he knows she cannot reply, a friend in this vast open wilderness where their only other witness are the trees around them.

Sejun is watching the water as they walk, clear enough to see the small fish darting between rocks just below the current. It is why he finds the sight strange right away— a piece of parchment floating on the surface. His brow furrows and he steps to get a closer look, hand tightening on his reins and his free hand moving automatically to the dagger on his side.

“Oh, sorry!” a voice rings out, and Sejun has his weapon drawn before he even finishes whirling around. A dozen or so meters away stands a man, perhaps only a couple of years older than Sejun himself, with his pant legs rolled up. It is clear he’s been in the water, a sad stack of parchment drying on the rocks nearby. His dark hair hangs in his eyes but it seems to bounce as he moves, hands up in surrender in front of his chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man says. “I’m unarmed. Can you hand me that?”

  
  
He’s pointing to the floating parchment, completely unaffected by the fact that Sejun has a weapon pointed in his direction. It’s bizarre to say the least, and Sejun keeps his eyes trained on him as he carefully reaches out, fingers finding purchase on the floating sheet. He hands it to the man, keeping as much distance as possible as he takes him in with narrow eyes. The man happily takes the parchment, adding it to the stack of papers and turning back to Sejun with a smile.

“Thank you, uh,” the man trails off, waving his hands in a circular motion as a sign he’s waiting for Sejun to tell him his name. When he doesn’t speak, the man sighs. “Right, well. My name is Chan.” He steps out of the water, shaking his legs out and turning his back completely to Sejun as he adjusts the stack of parchment. He takes his time, only turning back to Sejun after several minutes with an amused smile on his face. His next words only make him seem stranger.

  
  
“Will you put that thing down or are you going to gut me like a fish?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated ♡ Feel free to reach out to me on cc if you have any questions/thoughts about this little universe
> 
> [main twit](https://twitter.com/truantseeker) / [fic twit](https://twitter.com/pinkwinwin) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/pinkwinwin)


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